


you can make the blue sky blush

by asymptotes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, no sex yet, posting this in two parts, snapbacks, teacher/student au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asymptotes/pseuds/asymptotes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is a teacher/student! au</p><p>niall blushes a lot and wears snapbacks<br/>and zayn a hot english teacher<br/>harry is niall's best friend</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can make the blue sky blush

Niall walks into class that day, his snapback brim low on his head.  
He ignores the loud chatter filling his homeroom and makes his way to his usual spot beside his friend Harry, at the back of the class. 

He greets his friend with raised eyebrows and a nod and sits slouched in his chair, fingers tapping impatiently on his desk. Niall wanted the period to be over already. He reaches down into his backpack and rummages for his notebook.

A few moments later a distinctive hush falls over the classroom. Niall doesn’t look up because he hasn’t found his notebook yet. He continues rummaging until Harry taps him on the shoulder urgently.

“Mate,” he says, and jerks his head towards the front of the room.

Niall comes up and follows Harry’s gaze.

That was definitely not what Niall was expecting.

It was a new teacher. The first thing Niall noticed was that he was he was young. He had golden skin, tousled jet-black hair and he was inexplicably wearing a denim jacket. He looked like he should be walking home to his flat in London or something, not in a classroom. Niall liked to consider himself observant. The man seemed to be fiddling for something in his suitcase for a bit, then shrugged and turned away from the desk. He started writing something on the blackboard, his left hand rubbing through his hair.

Niall sits forward in his seat, he tells himself, to see the board clearer. He squints at the light scrawl.

Mr.Malik/Mr.M/Mr.Z

The man turned to back to the class. He dusted off the chalk on his jeans.

“Any of the three is fine. My first name’s Zayn, but you guys probably shouldn’t call me that.”

Niall sits back in desk and tried to ignore the swooping feeling in his gut. Zayn’s, no Mr. M’s voice sounded flat, almost hoarse, as if he’d just woken up. And the sound went straight to Niall’s groin.

He shakes the feeling off and starts doodling in his notebook, head down.

Niall listens as Zayn goes on about how the old English teacher had a nervous breakdown and is currently on vacation in Perth. And how he (“Lucky you” he adds sarcastically) would be taking over Year 12 English this semester and probably the rest of the year.

The blond boy finds himself trying to fight off a grin listening to Zayn’s (no Mr.M’s) lofty tone when he is nudged again by Harry who was now wearing a smirk.

“Try to keep your tongue in your mouth, yeah?” he whispers across the aisle.

Niall feels himself blush pink and turns to his friend.

“Oh piss off.”

Harry opens his mouth to add some equally devastating thing but is interrupted by Zayn’s voice.

“I have to take my hats off to you lads,” Zayn mused. “You're not even trying to seem like you’re listening.”

*

 

Niall felt his heart sink a bit as the entire class turned in their seats to look at himself and Harry. He was actually listening this time. He looked up at the teacher’s form.

Zayn’s arms were crossed and he was leaning back on the desk with one leg. He mouth was a straight line but Niall could see a tinge of humor in his eyes.

Harry started to give a half-assed apology. Niall did too, when Zayn stepped forward from the desk towards them, walking towards the back of the classroom.

“And speaking of hats off,” Zayn stopped in front of Niall’s desk bringing the scent of his aftershave with him and Niall gulps.

He looks up at Zayn’s face under the brim of his snapback and then it hits him.

Oh.

Niall whips off the offending article and places it on his desk. He feels himself turn an even brighter shade of pink.

Niall wasn’t one to feel embarrassed but this was honestly brutal.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, not quite meeting Zayn’s eyes but looking somewhere around his fringe.

“It’s quite fine,” Zayn replied. “I have quite an affinity for this type of hat too. Just keep it off in the classroom, yeah? School policy.”

He looked down at Niall with a furtive smile on his face. This time Niall felt he could look back. They locked eyes for a moment and all Niall could think about was how long the man’s eyelashes were. He shifted in his seat, remembering himself.

“Yeah.”

“Perfect,” Zayn murmured. “And what was your name, for future reference?”

Zayn peered down at him with chocolate brown eyes and Niall felt that swooping rush low in his stomach again. He was at a loss for words.

“Niall,” Harry pitched in.

“Alright, great, thank you, Niall. Now moving on to our mandatory reading...”

Niall felt his breathing return to him as Zayn continued the class as if nothing had happened. The next time he took a question, Niall hazarded a glance at his friend.

“No need for a thank you, bruv,” Harry said, and starting chuckling to himself.

Niall shook his head and slid a bit lower in his seat. He stared at the front of the class where his eyes should be. And if the beautiful man (“teacher!” Niall reminded himself) happened to enter his line of vision then so be it.

He was fucked.

*  
From then on it’s history, so to speak. Niall doesn’t say any of it out loud, because somehow that would mean it was true, but English quickly becomes his favourite subject. He actually gets to school on time the weeks he has Zayn’s class first. And much to Harry’s amusement and chagrin, Niall dutifully takes off his hat before every class. Niall shrugs this off, chalking it up to good teaching and a healthy respect for authority.

Niall likes to think he’s self-aware.  
A couple of weeks later, Harry voices all of this in a hushed tone on a walk home, one Friday afternoon. Niall watches the sidewalk, silent his friend prattles on.

“I think you have a crush, mate,” Harry ends with a flourish.

“Oh bugger off, Harry.”

“No, like an actually crush. I get it. It’s totally fine.”

Niall shoves his hands in his pockets and turns to his friend. Harry liked to joke, about everything really, but not about stuff like this.

“Really? It’s fine? Not that I’d like to - I mean..” Niall trails off, cursing himself under his breath.

“I knew it!”

Niall’s heart sank. They walk in silence for a beat and then Harry places a hand on Niall’s bare shoulder, where his tanktop ends and murmurs:

“Relax mate. I gave Mr.Tomlinson a BJ last winter. I say go for it.”

Niall recoils more out of shock than anything, but also the fact that Harry didn’t tell him.

“Mr.Tomlinson? From Drama? Isn’t he like thirty?”

Harry gives a salacious smirk.

“Twenty-seven.”

Niall takes off his snapback and re-adjusts his hair before putting it back on again. He was getting flustered.

Harry stops walking as they reach the point where their paths home diverge.

“Look mate. All I’m saying is go for it. Chances are, he wants it too.”

Niall stands still for a moment and looks out at the orangey-blue hues of the fall sunset. All of a sudden he feels like he's on the precipice of something completely new .

“Just think about it, yeah?” Harry's voice sounds more distant now.

Niall nods in response, but it’s more for his sake than Harry’s.


End file.
